


Tuesday

by FrozenMemories



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Episode: s05e24-25 Grave Danger, Grave Danger Day, M/M, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories
Summary: Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the worst day of his life.
Relationships: David Hodges/Nick Stokes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panchostokes (badwolfrun)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/gifts).



Nick’s never been one to care about special dates. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries – they’re all just arbitrary letters and numbers on a calendar. Still, when he rolls over to shut off his alarm and catches sight of the particular day and month on the display he cannot help but connect them to _this very day_ from the past.

Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the worst day of his life.

With a groan he crawls out of bed, smiling at the side of the bed that’s still occupied by a pile of blankets that emanates disgruntled mumbles.

He heads for the kitchen to make coffee and takes a quick shower while it brews. Any thoughts about what date it is get pushed down as soon as they pipe up. It’s an ordinary Tuesday and he refuses to treat it as anything other than that.

Balancing two hot mugs in his hands, he returns to the bedroom and gently peels the covers back to reveal David grumbling at him.

“Coffee?” he offers, the way he always does. It’s more of a habit than a question and he’s grateful for the routine.

David is more than aware of the anniversary. He didn’t mention it the previous days and he knows better than to say anything now; instead he reaches for the coffee and mutters a quiet thank you that he squeezes in between his usual complaints about still being tired and work starting too early in the mornings.

Nick’s grateful for that, too.

They go about their morning, the same as every day. David’s gotten better at concealing his concerns but there’s still an underlying tension between them. Those worried eyes just can’t hide what he's itching to say. He’s been this way, on this specific day, for the past seven years – Nick smiles crookedly at him, thinking about much more pleasant anniversaries. And there it is, “Are you alright?” David just cannot help himself.

“I’m good,” he replies and smacks a quick kiss against his partner’s cheek, “Let’s go.”

They talk about groceries and Nick’s sister coming over for a barbeque with her husband and kids on Saturday and how Nick’s looking forward to teaching Noah some football tricks from his high school days. David is unusually detached, so Nick turns on the radio and hums along to the music. From the corner of his eyes Nick catches him staring out the window.

“Stop brooding,” he tells him with a playful nudge in the thigh.

David shakes his head and sighs, “Okay.”

He doesn’t pay attention to the song fading out but as soon as the next one picks up it hits him like a train.

_It was Christmas in Las Vegas when the locals take the town  
Theresa hit a streak and laid her waitress apron down_

He freezes. That numbing feeling of dread coils through his stomach and his heart beat accelerates to a frantic pump.

This cannot be. That song. Today.

_She was playin' penny poker-_

His hand slams the off switch on the radio so fast his knuckles hit the dashboard with a painful thud.

“Nick?”

He blinks and focuses on calming down his breath.

“I hate that song,” he grouses.

This hasn’t been the first time in fifteen years that he’s caught it on some radio station but it's never hit him so unexpectedly and never at a less appropriate time than on this very day.

He rubs at his eyes and forces his attention back to the road. David doesn’t say a thing but he can feel the questions radiating off him.

He’s never told David about the song. Somehow he thinks that maybe he knows – he’s inscrutable like that. Either way, he’s not about to start that conversation when they’re only a couple of minutes away from the lab.

They part in the hallway; Nick’s headed for his office while David saunters off to his lab. As soon as the door shuts behind him Nick leans back against it and closes his eyes.

 _Just an ordinary Tuesday,_ he reminds himself.

It takes a moment to pull himself together but then he walks toward the desk and gets started on the waiting stack of files. He works his way through reports and crime scene pictures meticulously, rubbing at his temples while he reads.

_She won at Texas Hold'em, and again at Let It Ride_

There’s a familiar, lilting voice in his head. The same line, again and again.

He’s suddenly fifteen years younger again, carefree and in good spirits as he sings along to the radio. If he had known what would hit him… A shudder takes him back to the present. There’s no use in dwelling in the past; what’s done is done. He survived and he’s moved on.

_She won at Texas Hold'em, and again at Let It Ride_

He can feel unpleasant tickles crawling up his leg – an entire colony of memory ants making him reach down and scratch his legs through the solid fabric of his pants.

_Just an ordinary Tuesday._

He clenches his fist so hard the casing of his ballpen cracks in his palm.

_And again at Let It Ride_

“Dammit,” he utters breathlessly and flings the debris of his pen against the wall. He sits there staring at the scattered pieces of plastic until the walls start closing in on him.

“This isn’t real,” he whispers to himself, “you’re not having a panic attack, this is not happening.”

When he closes his eyes he sees a green hue flicker around him so he opens them right up again.

_Again at Let It Ride_

The voice keeps taunting; _his_ voice, he realizes. And then he does what he did back then – he sings under his breath.

“It was Christmas in Las Vegas when the locals take the town, Theresa hit a streak and laid her waitress apron down.”

To his surprise he begins to feel calm, instead of fighting the incessant songloop he embraces it and that somehow does the trick. He smiles faintly.

“She was playin' penny poker over at the ol' Gold Spike, she won at Texas Hold'em, and again at Let It Ride.”

The itching in his legs ceases and his pulse is slowing down to its normal pace. He puffs out a sigh of relief, retrieves a new pen from his desk drawer and goes back to his file, quietly humming the same melody over and over.

He’s buried so deep in what he’s doing that the knock on his office door catches him entirely off guard. David’s standing beside his desk by the time Nick dryly offers, “Come in.”

They share easy grins and David beckons him to spend their lunch break together. He hasn’t even noticed it getting so late.

He isn’t aware of his unconscious humming until David comments on it.

“I thought you hated that song?”

“It’s been stuck in my head all day and now I have a newfound appreciation for it,” he replies with a shrug. His tongue flicks across his bottom lip before he sucks it between his teeth. He feels bad about his blatant omission of the truth, he’s never enjoyed lying to David but they’ve spent so much time carefully dancing around this particular topic already and he doesn’t think a thirty minute lunch break at the diner down the street is the right place to get into this.

“You’re weird,” David tells him.

“ _You’re_ weird,” Nick counters and flicks a toothpick at him, finally breaking the gloomy tension of the day. A minute later they’re back to discussing their weekend plans and this time David participates animatedly.

Nick doesn’t spend many more thoughts on the matter, glad when the rest of the day passes without flashbacks or other painful reminders of the past. The song keeps popping up here and there but doesn’t pose any trouble in its wake.

It’s not until they hit the lights and David shuffles away from him under the blankets to find a comfortable position that the guilt comes creeping back. In all these years he’s always made sure to put on a brave face. Through all the nightmares he’s woken up to, all the sleepless tossing and turning that David has held him through, he’s only ever fed him partial truths, always played things down. And David never pushed.

“You still awake?” he asks, hand fumbling in the dark.

David hums.

“That song,” he starts and it makes him feel incredibly ridiculous and ashamed that it’s taken a decade and a half to gather the guts to tell _anyone._ But once he gets going the words keep rolling off his tongue so easily.

It’s half past two by the time his voice is hoarse from talking and he feels like there is nothing left to say. He’s sure David’s hand is sore from relentlessly carding through his hair but David just keeps going even after Nick went still.

They breathe into each other’s skin and Nick finally feels himself healing.


End file.
